Cost of Deciding
by EmmyR
Summary: Under a lot of pressure from nearly everyone around him, Charlie must eventually learn that not even he can predict, or prevent, everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so in my last story, No Such Thing As Coincidences, I hurt poor Charlie in nearly every way possible...physically :-) Since I always like hurting the characters that I love most, I'm back to hurting him, but I doubt I'll have much to physically hurt him that I haven't already, so it'll be more of psychological harm than anything.**

**This takes place after the finale of season 5, but before season 6, so expect spoilers for season 5.  
**

**Disclaimer: I get tired of typing these after a while, but since I don't want to be sued... I own nothing!  
**

* * *

Amita smiled as she walked into the Eppes family garage. Charlie was hard at work on his Emergence research: pounding away at the chalkboard, then checking a piece of paper, entering something into his laptop, and back to the board. Headphones on his ears blasted away everything else that was around him. She walked up behind her fiancé and tossed a stress ball at his back. After he had nearly hit her in shock when she sneaked up on him a few weeks prior, then holed himself up for days out of guilt, she decided that being further away when he was surprised was better for both of them.

Charlie jumped when he felt the plush ball smack his back, and turned around to smile at his fiancée. "Hey, you're all set for the flight?"

She smiled and nodded as she hugged him. "Yeah, the cab should be here soon to take me to the airport," she told him.

"Amita, I told you that I could take you," he protested yet again, and she hid a grin.

"I know, but I would rather make my flight than miss it because you got caught up in your cognitive emergence work. We finished finals yesterday, and I'm gone for two weeks," she reminded.

Charlie groaned. "Yes, I remember," he said softly. They had just rescued her less than a week ago from Duryea, and she was now headed to India to spend time with her family, who had threatened to find creative ways to bring her home if she didn't get there soon. But Charlie couldn't blame them for that; it would be terrifying to lose someone so close. "Your itinerary is on my closet door – nice touch, by the way – and I will be there to pick you up at the airport," he promised, giving her a deep kiss, telling her without words how much he would miss her.

She kissed him back, then sighed when she heard the cab honk at her from the front of the house. "I have to go," she said regretfully. "I'll see you in two weeks."

"I love you," he said meaningfully, and she returned the sentiment before grabbing her luggage and heading out.

Charlie watched her leave and sighed before putting his headphones back in. There was a lot that was going through his head at that moment, and he wouldn't get it done by missing Amita. Right as he was about to hit the play button, his phone rang. He stifled a groan and answered it.

"Charlie Eppes," he answered.

"Dr. Eppes, this is Lt. Walker," the familiar voice said.

Charlie sat up a bit. "Lt., it's good to hear from you," he said truthfully. It had been a while since the LAPD had needed his work after he'd gotten his clearance back. Or maybe it was just because the last person to request his services ended up being the perp. "What can I do for you?"

Gary sighed. "Look, I know that you're always busy with that brother of yours, but do you have time to look at something for me?"

"I'd be happy to," he said, then thought about it. "Well, that's assuming I won't be needing a supercomputer. The one at CalSci was destroyed the other day."

Charlie paused as he remembered the horror that had been only the day before, which was why he was at home instead of his office. Thankfully, no one had been in the building at the time, as it had been midnight, and it had just taken out the computer lab, which was worth millions, as it was the most sophisticated technology in the area.

"I understand, but would you mind still taking a look, seeing if there's anything you can do without the fancy computer?"

"Sure, I don't see why not," Charlie said with a grin. "What's the case?"

"There's a new gang in town, and we need some help before they get too big to stop. They seem to have a finger in everything around here: drug dealing, prostitution, gambling and money laundering, robbery, and are suspected in a few hits that Homicide is working on. I'll have an officer drop the file off for you. Are you at home or the FBI?"

"I'm in the garage," Charlie answered. "Just tell the officer to come on in, I probably won't hear anything if he knocks."

"Will do," Walker said, and hung up.

Charlie sighed and turned to the work he'd been at only moments before. He knew that if he started working on anything else, he wouldn't start on Walker's case until his thoughts had wound down, and he couldn't afford that. So he pushed the two chalkboards back to the wall and pulled two more forward to work on, then put the paper files into a box that he was using, and saved and closed the computer files, opening fresh ones. It was busy work that didn't really require much thinking, so he was able to think about the case he was taking on. He'd helped Walker and his men a while back with some of the gang issues, but hadn't heard from the man since he had been brought in for a case with Don, which was nearly two years before.

After all of the chaos of the past two months, he was happy to have something normal. Don's stabbing, the serial killer case, Amita's kidnapping, and then the bombing at CalSci had left him exhausted, though he hadn't wanted anyone to notice. There was a lot he was thinking about, and he had a meeting in a few days with the dean to talk through a thought he had.

Sooner than he had been expecting, there was a knock on the garage door, and he called him in. It was Officer Briggs, who he had worked with before. He was the senior agent on Walkers team: a forty something patrolman who was no nonsense, which was a good thing when working organized crime.

"Here you go, professor," Briggs told Charlie with a small smile, handing him a rather thick file. "This is everything we have on the newest gang in the area: DB. Stands for Dominican BoyZ, so no mystery as to where they came from."

Charlie just nodded as he flipped through the large file. "What is it that Lt. Walker needs from me?" he asked absently.

"We want to shut down this gang before they get too much of a foothold in the area, but that means that we don't have time to try and get an undercover inside, it's mostly a family thing, like the Mafia. We need to know if you can find out who the main shotcallers are. Hopefully, taking down the leadership will throw them into panic long enough for us to grab the gangbangers and stop this soon."

Charlie grinned as he continued to flip through. "Yeah, I should be able to give you an idea of who the leaders are. Think of it like a coin sorter. How the machine is able to sort the coins are by assigning values to each coin: size, weight materials, and so on. Since the DB is still new, they haven't had time to get enough members for the leaders to isolate themselves, so we can use a similar algorithm to sift through the members of the DB and find out which members are likely the leaders by assigning similar values: participation in crimes tend not to be the leaders unless they need bodies; activity talking to other members of the gangs, which we can find by looking at their phone records and email history. I'll start right away, and I may call you if I need more information," he promised, and turned immediately to the chalkboard and his hand started flying over the board, righting out equations as fast as he could.

Briggs grinned. He heard about all the issues that the Eppes family had been having the past few months, and he was glad to see that Charlie was acting the same as always.

* * *

Don drove home – well, to Charlie's house, which was more of a home than his apartment – and couldn't wait for a cold beer and a game on TV. Robin was still out of town on a trial, as she had been for the past two weeks, and he wanted her to get home soon. It was ironic, as both Robin and Amita got home on the same day, and he and Charlie had talked about having a barbeque to welcome them back.

Thinking about Charlie made his heart pound in memory. He could still remember the feeling of utter horror when he heard on the news that the computer lab at CalSci had been bombed, since Charlie spent a lot of time in there for all his work, and even more time on campus since it had been the last day of finals. With all the excitement with Don's stabbing and Amita's kidnapping, and the two cases between them, Charlie had not been on campus as much as usual, and he'd practically lived in his office to make up for it before finals. He had been beyond relieved to find that Charlie and Amita had gone back to the Craftsman to grade their finals, and that no one had been in the building when it had blown up.

Don shook off the thoughts and pulled into the driveway, noticing that their father's car wasn't there. He parked the car and walked into the house, grabbing a beer from the fridge on his way to the garage, the sure place to always find his brother.

He was surprised to find that Charlie was more frantic than usual, just running from the boards to his computer and back. "What's up, Chuck?" he asked.

Charlie spun around. "Don, hey. Just working a case for Lt. Walker."

Don's brows rose. He hadn't really thought about the man in a while, and was surprised that Charlie was helping him out. "What's the case?"

Charlie didn't look away from the board he was studying. "There's a new gang in town, and he wants my help to…"

"The Dominican BoyZ?" Don asked, and frowned when his brother nodded. "Careful, buddy, those guys are pretty nasty from what I've heard."

Charlie finally turned to look at his brother. "What have you heard so far?" he asked, grabbing a notepad and pen.

Don shrugged. "Not a lot, to be honest. I'm not on that case, I've just been hearing some in the break room about how protective they are, since it's mostly family that came here some years ago. Apparently they'll do anything to protect each other. Even if it's something small, they'll attack it the same they would anything else: with violence."

Charlie was writing everything down so that he could factor it in later if he needed it. "I'm surprised the FBI is on it," he commented.

"We arrested a few of the lower level bangers for a robbery a while back, then the witness ended up dead before she could testify," Don said sadly. He hated it when he lost innocents.

Charlie sighed as he thought about that. "Well, then I better get moving on this before anyone else gets hurt," he said with finality and went back to his work.

Don chuckled. Charlie really had gotten into the work of crime fighting over the past few years. "Alright. Hey, where's dad at?"

"He and Stan are working on some new project downtown, so they're having dinner at his place tonight," Charlie responded, not paying much attention.

Don laughed and nodded, then went back into the house to find a game.

* * *

**So, there's the beginning. Don't worry, this one won't be nearly as long as Coincidences! Let me know what you think so far!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Quick update for everyone out there, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not yet :-(  
**

* * *

The next few days passed normally for the brothers. Don had caught a new case at work, and they were working a lot of hours to solve it, and Charlie was continuing to work the gang case for Walker. It turned out that it was a lot more difficult than he had originally thought.

He was taking a break for breakfast with Don and their father before his meeting with the dean when his cell rang. He excused himself and grabbed it, seeing that it was an Indian number. "Charles Eppes," he answered with a smile, thinking that it was Amita. It was a 12 time difference between the two cities, and they usually talked before she went to bed.

"Dr. Eppes," Mr. Ramanujan replied, voice hard. "I would like to have a discussion with you."

Charlie froze, wondering what was wrong. "Yes, sir?"

"My daughter just told us everything that happened a few weeks ago, and I find myself discovering that the man she plans on marrying is not some simple math professor, but is practically an extension of different law enforcement agencies. Do you have so little respect for my daughter that you are willing to endanger her life?" he snapped.

Charlie's brows furrowed, thinking hard. He had never really thought that his consulting work would ever have put Amita in danger. "Sir, I understand that you are upset with the circumstances of Amita's kidnapping, however, if the two of us did not work closely with the FBI, then we might not have found her as quickly as we had."

Don exchanged a look with Alan, both looking worried. What was going on?

"I understand your thinking there, but I don't believe that you have thought it through, despite your genius. How that bastard was able to identify Amita was through the work that she had done with you and your brother. Some case about a computer pretending to be human, as Duryea put it?"

Charlie sighed and collapsed onto the couch. "I understand your anger with me about that, sir, but I…"

"Until you have a child of your own, I don't think that you can fully appreciate how I feel about you. All I know, is that when you do have children of your own, they will not be with my daughter. Consider your engagement off."

It took Charlie a moment to realize that the line had ended; he was frozen. He didn't realize how long he had been sitting there, staring at his phone, until Don sat in front of him on the coffee table and pulled it out of his hands.

"Buddy, what was that about?" he asked, concerned. He remembered the last time that Charlie looked like that, and it was after they thought Amita had been killed in the car bomb.

Charlie looked at his watch, and shook himself. He still had a meeting to get to, and his decision was now definite. "It was nothing," he mumbled, and grabbed his bag. "I'll be back in a few hours," he told them, and was out the door.

Don looked at Alan. "What just happened?"

"It sounded like it was Amita's father," Alan said, just as worried. "From what we could hear of Charlie's side of the conversation, he seems to blame Charlie for Amita's kidnapping."

Don groaned. He knew that Charlie had blamed himself for Don's stabbing, and in the beginning for Amita's kidnapping, but they had been able to convince him that neither one was his fault. Looks like their hard work was going to be nothing. He knew that there was something else, since nothing could get Charlie to freeze like that unless someone had died, and that didn't seem to be it, judging by the way he flew out the door. He jumped when his own cell rang, and knew that it was time for him to get back to work.

* * *

Charlie walked through the door and smiled at the assistant. "Hey, Mandy. Dr. Huang in?" he asked quietly.

Mandy smiled. "Yeah, Charlie. Go right in," she told him, buzzing the door open.

Charlie walked through the door and saw the dean waiting for him.

"Dr. Eppes, have a seat," she offered, and poured two cups of coffee. She handed one to Charlie and sat next to him instead of at her desk. "Talk to me, Charles," she requested softly. "I understand all of the pressure you were under at the end of the term, and if you need a lighter class load, you merely have to ask."

Charlie nodded as he took a sip. "I know, but I've had a few wake up calls lately. I really don't think that my destiny is in academia anymore."

Dr. Huang sighed. "I will offer you almost anything you want if you will reconsider your resignation." When he was about to say something, she raised a hand to stop him. "At least take a bit longer to consider this. Take a semester off. You certainly have a lot of time that you can take, since you know that we give semesters to professors who want to do their research, which you have never taken advantage of. You have done plenty of personal research over the years, and from what you've shown me on your Cognitive Emergence work, you could use some time to work on that." She paused, looking him in the eyes. "Take the semester. You can keep your office here to do your work, and you can use the computer room once we get it back up and running."

Charlie studied her for a moment. "I think something else is going on besides you wanting to keep me here."

She sighed. "I have had a lot of angry parents and students about the bombing a few days ago. I've already had three professors resign, thinking that CalSci is no longer a safe place of employment. I really don't want to lose our most popular professor. Please, Charles. Take the semester and do what you need to. We can always talk again in the winter about spring term."

Seeing the desperation in the dean's eyes, he nodded reluctantly. "I can't promise that I'll come back next term, but I'll consider it."

There was some paperwork that they needed to work through, and Charlie had to transfer some students to other thesis advisors, as he couldn't continue with them while he wasn't a full time professor. He would send each of them an email informing them that he would still be on campus if they needed any help the coming semester.

Huang sighed in relief as she set down her pen. "Thank you, Dr. Eppes. I really wasn't ready to open that office again just yet." She returned to her original statement. "What prompted this, Charlie? I've always thought you enjoyed teaching."

The young man sighed. "I love it, Tsing," he said, using her first name, since he could see that this was informal. "I've loved every second of teaching that I've done here. When I lost my clearance last year, though, I found just how much I love my consulting work. Then when my brother was stabbed because of information that I gave him, and Amita was kidnapped because of work that she and I did with the FBI, I just can't keep splitting my focus anymore. I have to decide," he said. His father's words from when Don was in the hospital came rushing back to him: _"This is the cost of not deciding."_ Deciding to think about it later, he forced himself to stay with the conversation at hand. "It's just getting harder to do both."

Tsing thought about that. "You know, most people would consider what you've said, and point out that it might be another option to cut out the consulting altogether."

Charlie shook his head. "I've seen the worst of the worst out there. If I can do my part in making things safer for everyone, then I'm going to."

She nodded. "I understand, Charlie. Like I said, take some time. You haven't taken any time off, even after your brother was in the hospital, you've certainly earned it. And you can keep using your office."

He stood and held out his hand to shake. "Thank you very much, Dr. Huang, I appreciate the help."

* * *

"Don, take a look at this," David said, jogging to catch his boss on the way to the break room. "We found this in Salt's apartment." John Salt was a thirty two year old former military man who had been attacking older men throughout the LA region. The victims were always men in their sixties, white, and widowed. The profilers were sifting through Salt's past, trying to see what the trigger could be for this kind of serial attacks. He never killed them, but they were always badly beaten. Don wanted to close this case as fast as he could, because he kept seeing his father in the victims.

He took the notebook from David and looked at it through the evidence bag it was in. It was filled with numbers and odd looking symbols. "I don't have a clue. But you remember what Amita said: Charlie is a code breaking machine."

David grinned. "Just what I was thinking. I'll make a copy and run it over to CalSci."

Don checked his watch. "Actually, he's probably home by now. He'll be in the garage, since he's working a case for Lt. Walker."

David raised a brow. "He's working for the LAPD again? Even after the Schmitt debacle?"

Don smirked. "Debacle? To answer your question, yes, with the LAPD. I guess Walker called him and asked for his help, which he agreed to. So go ahead and run that over to Charlie and see what he can tell us."

David nodded and hurried to the copier, then was on his way to the familiar house that he'd been in multiple times. He got to the garage door and smirked. Charlie was in his element, scribbling down equations with a piece of chalk. He rapped his knuckles on the door with a chuckle. When Charlie turned around though, the laughter died in the agent's throat. Charlie's eyes were haunted, in a way that chilled David to the bone.

"Charlie, man, you alright?" he asked worriedly.

The mathematician just nodded as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm fine, don't worry. Don called and said you have something for me?" he asked, holding out a hand for the file.

David handed it over and watched as Charlie examined the code. "We know it has something to do with the case we're working on. John Salt has been…"

"Yeah, I know," Charlie interrupted, eyes flying over the papers. "This is pretty complex stuff, but I'll see what I can do," he promised.

David smiled at him. "Sounds good. Thanks, man, we appreciate it." With another nod at him, he turned and left the garage.

Charlie set the file down and dropped into his chair. This had been one of the longest days in a while, and considering the recent past, that was saying a lot. He couldn't stop thinking about Amita. How could her father call it off unless he had already spoken with her about it? Was she wanting to end it, but didn't want to tell him herself? He thought he knew her well enough that she would at least talk to him about it, not let her father do it. Maybe she realized that he really was at fault for her abduction.

The accusations that her father had made sounded scarily similar to Alan's when Don was still on the respirator, when he told Charlie that he needed to decide. He buried his head in his hands and groaned. How could his actions have resulted in the two people he loved most nearly dying within less than two weeks of each other?

He started when he realized that he had already spent an hour sitting there contemplating his now failed relationship and the blame that lay on his

shoulders. He forced himself to grab the papers that David had dropped off. He just had to make sure that no one else got hurt on his watch.

* * *

**College professors are allowed to have a semester every few years in order to keep up on research, which is generally part of their employment. I just see Charlie as one of the few who wouldn't want to take the extra time, and just do the research on his own time. Plus, we never saw him take time off, so he should have quite a bit built up. **

**Reviews make me smile!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I know that I hate it when there's super long author's notes during the story, so I apologize. I just wanted to respond to a guest's review. **

**For one, I'm sorry if you think I should change up what I write, but I write what I feel. It's not pretty when I try to force myself to write what I'm not feeling, and I don't want to do that. If you don't like what I'm writing, there are hundreds of thousands of other stories on this site, so feel free to look at those.  
**

**Also, I'm well aware that government agencies can't give out the names of the consultants, which would be for their own safety. However, in the season 5 finale when Duryea first met Amita, he said, and I quote: "You're the one exposed that computer pretending to be human." So, somehow someway, he found out that Amita helped on that case, and that was in the episode itself. I could easily see Amita telling all of this to her concerned parents, who would rightfully be upset and concerned. My conclusions past that are my own.  
**

**For future reviewers, if you have constructive critisism, or confusion about something, please sign in so that I don't have to take up room before the story to speak about it, and I can just PM you. Thanks for the reviews, though, they are always nice to see in my email.  
**

***Takes deep breath* Alright, sorry about that. Now, onward! :-)  
**

* * *

Several days later, Don came to the house for the first time since the phone call from India. The case had been staying the same, and Don was getting annoyed at how long it was taking Charlie to get back to them about the papers that David had found.

He burst into the garage and froze. Charlie was in the same clothes that he'd been in the last time he'd seen his brother. "Charlie?" he asked, seeing him typing tiredly.

"Hey Don. No, I don't have anything for you just yet," he said through a yawn, and took another sip of coffee.

Don fought down the anger that came with his brother's words. "What do you mean, you don't have anything? David dropped it off days ago!"

Charlie glanced up at his brother and sighed. "It's a lot more complex than I thought. I'm trying to run it through my computer, but it doesn't have enough power. What I need is a supercomputer. The problem is that I don't have one here, since CalSci's was destroyed."

Don would later blame it on the stress of the case, but he couldn't help it. "How many people do you know in the math community, or in different agencies that would be happy to help you out? Find someone with a computer that is powerful enough to do the job!" he yelled.

Charlie sighed. "I tried the people I know. I was going to call up some of my contacts in other agencies, but they don't give favors without strings attached."

Don hissed in frustration. "Look, I know that you're busy, but we need that code decoded, so do whatever you have to. The last man that was attacked died this morning. I don't want another death on our hands!" he seethed, then turned and stalked back into the house.

Charlie groaned. He should have known that was coming, but he really didn't want to make those calls. Deciding that he really didn't have a choice, he stopped the gang work he was doing and picked up his cell, dialing the number from memory.

"Director Tompkins," the familiar voice answered.

"Bob, it's Charlie," he responded.

"Charlie, how are you doing? I heard about your leave from the university. Is everything alright?" the director asked.

Charlie sighed. "Not really. Look, I have a favor I need to ask you for."

There was a brief moment of silence, then Bob spoke. "What is it that you need?"

"I need access to a supercomputer, Bob. The one at CalSci was destroyed in that explosion, and the case I'm working on for the FBI really needs the information faster than my laptop can work."

Bob considered. "You know, I would be happy to help you normally," he started. "But we have a case right now that needs to be done, and the person we find to consult with us will need full access to that computer. However," he continued slyly, "if you were to help us, there would be no problem with you using it for your other case."

Charlie bit back a groan. He knew before he made the call that this was going to be the case. Unfortunately, he knew what he needed to do. "Alright, Bob. Just tell me that your case isn't time sensitive."

"You'll have about two weeks to do it, or we'll need to find someone else."

Charlie dropped his head onto his desk. "I understand. Please tell me I don't have to fly to DC for this, Bob."

The director chuckled. "No, no. I can have an agent fly out to LA and brief you, bringing everything that you'll need. Thanks, Charlie," he said before hanging up.

Charlie snapped the phone closed and contemplated throwing it across the room. Two cases were already stretching him thin, three would nearly kill him; but it was clear he didn't have a choice in the matter. Knowing that he couldn't get much done for Don's case until tomorrow, he continued the work on Walker's, hoping that he might have an epiphany that would help end it.

Before he could get started, though, his mind went yet again to Amita. What was she doing, was she alright? Was she happy that things had ended between them, that she would no longer be dragged into the world of crime fighting that clearly had become his life? He wondered if all of this would be easier if she was here, since she was better with computers than he could ever be.

Forcing his mind off of the love of his life, he focused yet again on the Dominican BoyZ, hoping that he would find something that would end his involvement in at least one case.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and early, and Charlie forced himself to leave the garage and grab a shower and a change of clothes. He had barely left that room for days and knew that he needed to clean up before meeting with the NSA agent that was scheduled to be there in just a few hours. So he showered, shaved, and grabbed a fresh change of clothes before bolting down a quick breakfast and bidding his father good day as he left for Stan's place to continue the work on their new project.

An hour after Alan had left, there was a knock on the door, and Charlie grabbed his laptop and all the information he had on both cases before he opened the door. There were two agents in official suits standing at nearly military stance.

"Dr. Eppes? Agent Riley," he introduced himself. "Director Tompkins said that we were to take you to NSA headquarters. Are you ready to leave?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, I think I have everything. Let's get moving."

They climbed into the government issued SUV and took off for the building that was only a few blocks from the familiar FBI building. They parked and escorted Charlie through security and brought him to the computer room. "Are you ready for the information, professor?" Agent Riley asked.

"I will be in one moment. If I can get this data entered into the supercomputer first, it can have a chance to work while we talk," Charlie said, fingers flying over the keys as his eyes were fixed onto the pages of code that David had given him. After fifteen minutes of work, he finished and sat back, grabbing a notebook and looking at the agents. "Alright, what do you have for me?"

"This code was passed to us through our contacts in the Middle East. Our usual cryptographers were unable to get anything from it, but we believe that it is vital information. We need to know what it says before we can move any of the troops we have stationed."

Charlie looked at the pages of code that were quite different from the file that the FBI needed done. It was much more sophisticated, and he bit back a groan. He hated having to work two codes at once, since he had trouble keeping them separate at times. "Any information you can give me? Something like the country we're talking about, the group that is responsible for the code." He looked up in time to see the agents glance at each other, then back at him, and he sighed. "Right, Never Say Anything. I remember. Alright, I'll see what I can do."

They thanked him, and left him to his work. He decided not to use the computer just yet, but to see what he could do with simpler methods.

* * *

**I know nothing about supercomputers, and only a small amount about codes, so any mistakes I apologize in advance for!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving, and didn't lose their minds on Black Friday! I couldn't believe how long some of the lines were, though I wasn't there. No thanks, I don't do my shopping that day! :-)**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not even close!  
**

* * *

Don was at his desk, trying to concentrate on the work in front of him when his cell rang. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID. "Eppes."

"Donnie, it's your father. I just got to Stan's, and he's been beat pretty bad! I have an ambulance on the way, but Don! There's so much blood, I don't…" he trailed off, voice going hysteric.

Don was already up and motioning his team to follow him. "I'll be right there, I remember the address. Tell the police not to touch anything when they get there, that FBI is on their way. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up and sprinted for the elevator.

"What's going on?" Nikki asked as she checked her gun as they got into the elevator.

"A friend of my dad's was beat. I think it's Salt's work," he said shortly, waiting impatiently for the elevator to hurry.

Don drove like a demon to get to the house, and saw the multiple cars that were waiting for them. He flashed his badge to get through the tape and looked for the man in charge. "What do we have here, officer?" he demanded.

"The man who lives here, Stan, looks like he was beat with some pipe or other round object until he lost consciousness. The other gentleman probably saved his life by finding him so quickly," the officer told them.

"Get everyone out, this is an open case with the FBI," Don ordered, then told his team what to do. He would need confirmation from the evidence, but it sounded like Salt's M.O., and now he wanted to get the bastard even more. He knew how close his father was with Stan. He made his way over to his father. "How you doing, pops?"

"Donnie, how could someone do this to him?" Alan asked, sitting on a kitchen chair while a female officer handed him a glass of water.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Now, can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

* * *

Charlie rubbed his eyes. He had only gotten a few hours of rest the past few days, and after the nightmares he'd experienced, he had no intention of repeating it. Of course, he didn't have the luxury of sleeping or even eating just yet, since he still hadn't gotten anywhere with any of the cases. He checked the time, and was amazed that it was already 11 at night, and this was the first time he'd 'woken' from his work and took notice of everything around him. He checked on Don's code, and was pleased that the computer was doing its job and was nearly finished. He might have something for his brother within the hour.

Unfortunately, neither of the other two cases were going anywhere fast. He had tried all the code breaking he knew without a computer; it was time to enter it into the supercomputer. Once he was done with that, he took another look at the gang case.

His stomach rumbling reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything in over 15 hours, and it would be smart to have something right then. Deciding to stretch his legs as well, he stood and was almost out the door when the computer let out a chime, telling him that it had finished one of the codes. Knowing that it was most probably Don's, he hurried over and printed the decoded message. Looking at it, he grinned. The guy's hideout in case his apartment was discovered.

He locked the computer so that no one could see the work that he was doing on the other code, he grabbed his phone and went outside to where he had reception. Just as he was about to dial the number, he found that he had four voicemails from his brother. Clearly he had less reception than he'd thought, if none of them had gone through. Deciding to get the verbal flaying that he thought would be in the messages over with, he listened to them first.

His heart nearly stopped when he heard his brother, quite coldly tell him that Stan was the latest victim of the LA Beater, and that his father was with Stan at the hospital. The last message was quite irate, wondering if Charlie had forgotten about the case, or simply didn't care.

Biting down the fury that rose in him, he hurried to find an agent to let him know that there was a family emergency and that he would be back later, but to please lock the computer room until he returned. That done, he flagged a cab to head to the hospital, then speed dialed his brother.

"Eppes," his brother snapped into the phone.

"Don, it's Charlie. I'm on my way to the hospital now, and I finished the code for you guys. Meet me there," he said, suddenly feeling a bit weak from the lack of sleep, food, and the adrenaline that was coursing through him.

Don snapped up. "Finally!" he snarled. "Took you long enough. Come to the FBI before the hospital to show us what you have," he demanded, then hung up.

Charlie muttered a curse, and told the cabbie to turn around and head to the FBI. Ten minutes later, he was walking into the bullpen and slapped the decoded message onto his brother's desk, making him jump slightly, having not expected it.

"There you go. It's the address of his hideout, you should be able to get there in less than an hour," he snapped.

"What's with the attitude?" Don demanded. "If you had worked harder on this, I wouldn't have to ride you about it! Not to mention, you should keep your phone on, you know, in case one of us needs you," he said sarcastically. He didn't know what was going on with Charlie, but he was pretty annoyed. He truly had thought that Charlie was better than this, to be ducking his calls while he worked on his math, just like he'd done after their mother passed.

Charlie counted the prime numbers to 47 before opening his mouth. He was proud that he was able to keep his voice steady. "I was doing what you demanded the other day, Donald," he said slowly. He only used his brother's full name if he was jesting or furious, and it didn't take a genius to know which one he was right now. "I got a hold of someone who could let me use a supercomputer so that I could find that faster. The place I was at had no reception, so I waited until your code was finished before I tried to call you. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to the hospital." He turned on his heel and stalked out.

Don stared after his brother in shock. Yeah, he was hard on the kid, but this is a bad case, and they needed everyone to give it all they had. Deciding to think about it later, he raised his voice. "Got a break, guys, let's roll."

Nikki, of course, was the first ready, followed by Colby, then David. "Where we headed, Don?" Colby asked.

Don looked at the paper and handed it to David. "Put that into the GPS, and let's get this bastard," he said quickly.

* * *

Charlie walked up to the room that the receptionist had given him, and he saw his father dozing off in a chair, a cold cup of coffee next to him. Deciding that his next stop was going to be getting a cup for himself, he crouched down. "Dad?" he said quietly.

Alan jerked awake. "Charlie! Oh, it's good to see you, son," he whispered, giving Charlie's shoulder a squeeze.

"How's he doing?" he asked, looking at his father's best friend.

"The doctors say that he should be fine, but they want to keep him for a few days in case of complications." Alan raked a hand over his face, then looked up. "Where have you been? I've barely seen you the past few days."

Charlie sighed. "I've got a full load right now, and I just found out about this morning. I'm sorry, Dad," he said, deciding not to get offensive if his father needed someone to yell at.

But Alan wasn't going to do that. "It's alright, I understand," he said, disappointment clear in his voice.

Charlie flinched. He always preferred anger over disappointment. He didn't even try to defend himself. He straightened, then stumbled as his vision grayed slightly.

Alan steadied him, earlier disappointment put on the back burner for now. "Are you alright? You aren't looking so good."

Charlie shook his head to clear his vision. "I'll be fine, just have a lot going on right now. I just finished up with Don's case, so that'll help out some."

Alan studied him, then sighed. "I didn't mean to sound like that. I'm sorry, I'm just worried about Stan."

"It's alright, Dad, I understand." He checked his watch, and groaned. "Look, I need to be headed back. But first," he grabbed a pen from his pocket and the pad of paper from Stan's bedside table. "I don't have cell reception where I'm working, so call this number," he said, scribbling it down. "Ask for me, they'll patch you through on the landline."

Alan looked at the number. "What are you working on? Where are you working?" he asked.

"I have a case for the NSA right now, and I'm working on another for the LAPD. Thankfully, the one for the FBI is finished, I think," Charlie said, and groaned when his cell rang. "Doesn't anyone care that it's after midnight?" he grumbled as he pulled it out. "If you need me, Dad, just call my cell or that number. I'll be able to answer one of them," he promised, and hurried out before a nurse could yell at him for using his cell. "Charlie Eppes," he answered.

"Eppes, it's Walker," the annoyed voice told him.

Charlie walked through the lobby and decided that swill was better than nothing and bought a coffee. "Hey, Lt., you have anything new?"

"Funny, that was going to be my question. You've had the case for over a week now, anything?"

Charlie downed half the coffee at once, grimacing as it seared his throat. "Not yet, Walker. I'll let you guys know when I have something."

Walker sighed. "Alright, but see if you can hurry it up, we had another robbery, DB suspected. I'll have one of my men drop the file off tomorrow, maybe it will help."

More data was usually better, but Charlie cringed at the thought of more work on this case. "Understood, Lt, and thank you."

Charlie hailed another cab to take him back to the NSA. He figured that he would do some more on their code, since he was getting more information on the gang one in the morning.

Charlie felt like he had just crawled into bed when his alarm went off. Seeing that he had gotten his allotted two hours of sleep, he forced himself to get up and got into the hottest shower he could manage, hoping without much hope that it would wake him up.

Since that hadn't, he brewed super strong coffee that was barely liquid anymore and poured it into two thermoses to take with him. The knock on the door got his attention, and he set them down on the table by the door.

"Briggs, morning," he said, holding out a hand for the file. "Thanks for this. I might have something for you guys soon."

"No offense, Charlie, but you look like crap," Briggs said in his usual, blunt manner.

Charlie barked a laugh. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious. I know, I'm a bit bogged down. Tell Walker I'll let him know something soon."

Briggs just nodded and got back into his car, Charlie right behind him. He drove quickly to the NSA and went right back to work.

That day went by slowly, and Charlie's only sustenance was the coffee that he was inhaling to keep himself awake. No one came into the room to tell him he had a phone call, and his cell never beeped to tell him he had a voicemail, so he just kept working. Unfortunately, neither case was coming along, no matter how hard he worked.

The NSA's code was a good one, and he wished that he was that good at decoding it. But it seemed that no matter what he did, nothing worked, and he was struggling not to lose his patience and kick the computer that was failing to give him results.

The gang case was similar. He had worked on several with the LAPD Organized Crime Division, but this was not responding to his algorithms like they usually did. Something was off, and he was determined to find out. Thanks to his clearance, he was able to get access to a few different databases, and track other gang related or suspected crimes, hoping that he would find whatever it was that he was missing, and could use it to finish this case.

Finally, it was after midnight again, and Charlie nearly passed out, then realized that he hadn't eaten anything in almost two days. He got into his car and went to a fast food drive through and got the largest size combo they had and scarfed it down.

When he got home, he went up to his room, dropping his bags onto the floor as quietly as he could so that he didn't wake his father. He groaned quietly, and looked at the picture on his nightstand. It was, of course, one of him and Amita. The photo had been taken by Larry one day when they were out hiking. It truly looked like a postcard, with the beautiful scenery in the background, and the lighting was absolutely perfect. He found it hard to tear his eyes away from it, seeing her smile, her eyes dancing with laughter at a joke Larry had said, before he slammed it back down, shattering the glass in the process. It was the perfect metaphor, as his own life felt shattered.

* * *

**Bit more action in this one, hope you liked it! Feel free to tell me, though *hint hint* :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**For some reason, this chapter made me smile when I was writing it :-)  
**

**Disclaimer: Numb3rs does not belong to me!**

* * *

The next morning, he shot out of bed when he realized that he'd overslept, and gotten six hours of sleep, when he'd only had time for three. He hurried out the door, and decided to work on the gang case at his office today. He still had time to work on the code for the NSA, but he knew that Walker's team was getting impatient, so he chose to work on that, but at CalSci, instead.

As soon as he'd arrived, he went straight to work, not thinking of anything other than the Dominican BoyZ. He went through the file that Briggs had brought him that morning, and poured over it and the rest of them. His main concern right now was at least getting one or two good names to give to the team.

It was nearly four o'clock when he finally found one: Miguel Perez, a 28 year old from the Dominican Republic. He quickly dialed Walker's number and told him that he had information. Thankfully, the lieutenant was already on the road, and would be there within the hour.

Charlie was double checking his findings when the door flew open, and Amita stormed in. He froze in his steps, arm still raised against the board, and the chalk fell from his fingers.

"I thought you were picking me up from the airport today?" she demanded. "Not to mention I haven't heard from you in over a week. What the hell is going on with you, Charles Edward Eppes?"

Charlie stared at her, surprised at the use of his full name, but before he could attempt to form a sentence, Walker came in as well. "What do you have for me, Eppes?"

The professor went to his desk and grabbed the paper he'd written the information on for Walker and went to hand it to him. Just was he was about to explain it, another voice sounded.

"I guess you aren't talking about me," Don said quietly from the doorway. "I need to talk to my brother, if you don't mind," he said to both Amita and Gary.

"Actually, I need that right now," Agent Riley said from behind Don.

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, the volume getting louder and louder, each one trying to be the one that Charlie heard. Having taught for years, Charlie was used to this, though usually from kids in their early twenties trying to have something explained, not law enforcers and his ex fiancée. However, it was practically the same thing at the moment. He brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, the ones closer covering their ears at the piercing noise. Amita actually glared at him, since he knew she hated it.

"Alright, let's do this one at a time," he said sharply, his body trembling slightly at the lack of care it had received lately. "Agent Riley, I understand that I need to be back at the NSA working on your case. I will be finishing up here shortly, and I will return there as soon as I can. Hell, I'll even throw in a couple coffees for you and your partner. Alright?" he asked, and nodded when the man gave him a curt nod and left the room.

"NSA?" Don asked, but Charlie wasn't done yet.

"Walker, this is what I have for you right now," he said handing him the paper.

"Perez. I had a feeling about him," Walker muttered as he looked the paper over.

"I'm not a 100% positive about him, but my math tells me that there is a 82% chance that he is one of the leaders of Dominican BoyZ. If I find anything else, I will let you know. If you need something else, just call me on my cell or this number," he said, handing him one of his own business cards with the same NSA number that he'd given his father. "I don't have the best cell reception where I'm going to be, so call me there, and they'll transfer your call to me."

Walker nodded. "Thanks for the help, professor," he said, and followed Riley out.

Charlie collapsed onto his chair. He really wasn't feeling well, but he had two important conversations to have right then. "Alright, Don, what is it?" he asked tiredly.

"We have Salt in custody, but something seems hinky. Is there anything else that you can do, maybe take a look at everything for us?" he asked, holding out a file. He wanted to talk more about what Charlie was doing, or rather not doing, but it seemed that his little brother needed some time with Amita. So he would wait for a few days before approaching him again. It was a good thing that he'd had an ulterior motive for going there.

Charlie took it with trepidation. "I'll see what I can find, but no promises."

Don muttered under his breath, and walked towards the door. Just as he was about to walk out the door and turned around. "What was the NSA doing here?" he asked curiously.

"I'll call you later," Charlie said, not taking his eyes off Amita.

Don just shrugged and left. Amita and Charlie continued looking at each other, until she broke the silence. "Charlie, you look horrible," she said honestly. "What is going on?"

Charlie chuckled humorlessly. "You mean besides the three cases I'm on, or the fact that your father told me last week that our engagement was off?"

Amita's eyes widened to nearly past physical possibilities as she stared at him, and she seemed lost for words. "He told you what?" she demanded in a whisper.

Charlie stood, turning back to the board so that she didn't see the pain in his eyes. "He called a few days after you left and said a lot of things to me. One was that it was my fault that Duryea kidnapped you. The other was that I clearly did not care enough about you to take care of you, so our engagement was off."

Amita spluttered. "What…How…Why…." She stammered.

Charlie couldn't take it anymore and he grabbed his bag, and kept his eyes anywhere but on her. "Look, he was right to say those things. Dad said the same things to me after Don got stabbed. All I do is get the people I love hurt, and it needs to stop." He walked out and headed to his car, knowing that the emotions would get to him if he stayed in that room another moment.

Amita collapsed into the chair that Charlie had vacated. When she had gotten off the plane and hadn't seen him, she had assumed that he had merely gotten distracted with his Emergence work, and was ready to ream him for forgetting about her. But he was working three cases, apparently for three different agencies. And how could her father call off their engagement without telling her? She had to find a way to figure this out, and fast.

* * *

Charlie barely made it to NSA headquarters. His head was swimming with fatigue, but he had work to do, and managed to juggle his laptop case and the three coffees for him and the agents. He quickly handed the drinks to them and made his way to the computer room, quickly getting to work on their code. The faster he was done with that, the sooner he could relax a bit. He hated three cases at once.

Two days later, Charlie finally made it home, after working almost nonstop on the code. He had finally begun to crack it, but he still had a lot of work to do on it. He pulled the car in and stumbled towards the door. So focused on putting one foot in front of the other, he didn't notice Amita until he nearly ran into her.

"Amita?" he asked, not able to come up with anything else just yet.

She just nodded. "I know it's late, but I was wondering if we could talk." She paused for a moment to make sure he was looking at her. "We need to talk."

Charlie nodded and let them both in, making their way to the garage so they wouldn't disturb Alan, who was already asleep. He cleared some of the DB files off the couch and the chair and made sure that he wasn't sitting next to her. "Go ahead," he sighed.

Amita frowned. She could tell that he wasn't taking care of himself. His clothes were frighteningly baggy, and there were dark smudges under his eyes that spoke of too many nights without sleep. She brushed the thought away, deciding to worry about it later.

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked finally. When he didn't respond, she elaborated. "Charlie, we've been together for years, and have known each other for even longer. Did you really think that I would have my father break it off for me without calling you? Do you really think so little of me?" she asked, truthfully hurt.

Charlie looked at her sadly. "Amita, I didn't know what to think. I know how much you love and respect your father, so when he told me to stay away from you, I figured you thought it was for the best."

Amita sighed. "Charlie, I love you. I don't blame you for my kidnapping last month, I never did! My father needed someone to blame, and he chose you. I'm furious with him for that conversation you two had, and believe me, I'll be talking a lot with him about that. But you should have called me, and made sure that's what I wanted."

Charlie rubbed the fatigue from his face and looked at the ground. "I know that's what I should have done, but I was afraid to hear you say it," he admitted. "I could barely handle hearing your father say it, but to hear you call it off when you were half a world away, I wasn't sure I could take."

Amita got up from the couch and knelt in front of Charlie's chair. "I don't know what's been going on lately, but I need you to believe me when I tell you that I love you, and that as soon as things slow down a bit for you, I still want us to plan the wedding," she said softly.

Charlie tried to fight it, but he couldn't. Instead, he stood up and pulled Amita up as well, then wrapped her in a hug, holding on for dear life.

Feeling him shake against her, she held on tighter. After a few minutes, she gave him a kiss on the lips. "You need to get some rest," she chided him. "I'll stay on the couch tonight, since we still have a few things to talk about. Then in the morning, I'm driving you wherever you have to go." Seeing that he was about to object, she talked over him. "Don't try it. You shouldn't be driving right now, and you know it," she said finally.

Charlie smiled for the first time in weeks and gave her another hug. "You can't sleep on the couch," he told her. "If you were being honest about still wanting us to be together, then you are coming to bed. I haven't slept in the same bed as you in over two weeks, and I miss it."

She grinned at him, then took his hand and led him inside. She knew that they still had a lot to discuss, but that could wait for later; this couldn't have. She found she was happy to be back in his – their room.

* * *

**A/N: Of course I would keep those two together, they are just too cute! Hehe, sorry, couldn't help myself, though. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: These get a bit tired after a while, but I make no money off of this story!**

**Okay, so this is going to be a bit of a controversial chapter, so please read the author's note at the bottom before you decide to send in a flame :-)  
**

* * *

Amita drove back to the Craftsman a few days after the conversation with Charlie. He was still working hard, but it was down to just the NSA code, which he only had a few more days to finish. She had already told Walker that if there was any more work on the DB case, that she would handle it. She had also told Charlie that she was cooking dinner for them, and she expected him to be there. She had just gone to the store to get the last of the ingredients that she needed, and walked up to the door.

She stopped when she saw that the door had been kicked it, as the lock was broken, and one of the hinges was barely hanging on. Shaking slightly, she lowered the bags onto the ground, and pulled the small container of mace that she kept in her purse for emergencies, and slowly walk inside. Normally, she would never go into a house like that, but Alan had been home when she'd left less than an hour before, and she was worried about him.

Once she was inside, she gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth as she fought the gasp. Alan was lying on the floor, bleeding from gashes on his face and from his nose. Bruises were forming all over, and she nearly cried in relief when she saw that he was still breathing. Knowing that she should make sure that the house was empty, she started walking slowly to each room, feeling slightly ridiculous. She wasn't an agent or a cop, she was just a professor! Hearing a noise in the backyard, she ran to the window in time to see a Hispanic male look over his shoulder at her before jumping the fence and running off.

Keeping a mental image of his face, she dialed 911 for an ambulance, and was told that they were on their way. She wondered who to call next. Her first instinct was to call Charlie, but she couldn't remember the number for the NSA, where he was at. So she dialed the next best number: Don.

Don was sitting at his desk, avoiding his paperwork. He checked his email, and found one from Charlie, who wrote that he had looked over the Salt case, and couldn't find anything off, but admitted that he was looking at it as a mathematician, and not an agent.

He smiled slightly. He was glad that Charlie had looked over the file for him, even if he hadn't found anything. He wrote back, informing him that they had the signed confession from Salt, and that they thought things were wrapped up with that one. He asked if there was going to be a good night for dinner that week, or if he'd like to go out with the team.

Just after he'd hit send, his phone rang next to him. He didn't bother looking at the caller ID when he flipped it open. "Eppes."

"Don, it's Amita!"

* * *

Charlie was continuing to work the code for the NSA, and scoffed at Don's email. Barely even a sentence of thanks for the work that he'd done on the case, and practically dismissing the extra work he'd done. This was getting ridiculous. The land line next to him beeped, and he picked it up.

"Charles Eppes," he said tiredly.

"Charlie, this is Riley. I have your brother on the line, he says that it's a family emergency. Shall I patch him through?"

He stood, suddenly terrified, fingers already flying over the keyboard to save his work. His brother never used the words 'family emergency.' Never. "Do it now," he ordered.

"Charlie?" Don yelled into the phone. "Amita said that Dad's been beaten. Nikki talked to the paramedics; they're going to take him to Memorial. Meet us there." Click.

The professor stared at the phone in fear. Their dad was hurt? How? Salts was in prison, Don had said so in his email! Charlie hurried to shut everything down and flew out of the room, barely letting the agents know where he was going before he ran outside and flagged down a cab. He knew that he shouldn't be driving right now.

A very long cab ride later, and Charlie was running into the ER waiting room, and saw Don, Amita, Colby, and David. He stopped dead when he saw the blood on Amita's hands and blouse.

She was the first one who saw him come in, and hurried over to pull him into a hug. They hadn't really seen each other much, they were mostly talking on the phone, and at night. Right then, though, they both needed the comfort of each other's arms. "The EMTs said that he should be fine, Charlie," she whispered. "They said that I scared off the attacker in time before too much damage was done."

When Amita hugged him, he felt far better than he had in a while, and he reveled in that feeling. Then her words registered. "You saw the attacker?" he nearly yelped. "Amita, you could have been seriously hurt!"

"I'm fine," she assured him, holding his head between her hands and forcing him to look at her. "I got a good look at the attacker and gave the description to the police. We should know something soon."

Charlie sat down, and noticed that Don was practically vibrating with energy. He knew that was how his brother delt with fear: he didn't suppress it like Charlie did, he confronted it, and made people regret ever messing with him. Charlie knew that he and Don needed to talk about a few things, but this would be a bad time. Very few times had he gotten in Don's way when he was upset, and he always regretted it shortly after.

He looked around at the rest of the room's occupants. Nikki wasn't there, so he assumed that she was still at the scene. Thinking of his own house like that made him shudder. David and Colby were in a corner, talking in hushed tones, and David had his cell out, most likely talking with Nikki or another officer. He realized that Amita looked frustrated about something, so he went over and asked her about it.

"I know I recognized him from somewhere," she vented quietly. "I just can't remember where."

Charlie looked at her, surprised, but didn't have time to comment because a doctor came out to talk to the family. So he and Don walked over to him.

"Your father is going to be just fine," the doctor reassured them. "He'll stay for the night to be safe, but he can be released tomorrow."

Don stuck out his hand. "Thank you, doctor," he said meaningfully. The doctor just nodded and left, and Don rounded on Charlie. "Where the hell have you been?" he seethed. Anger at the situation, and the fact that someone dared to go after his family was clouding his common sense right then. The tiny flame of irritation that he'd felt towards his brother earlier in the week had flamed into burning rage.

Charlie was too exhausted to take offense to Don's tone. "I've been at the NSA working on a case for them." His years of experience with Don's temper told him there was no escaping this. He would ride it out, and then listen to Don's truthful apology later.

Don threw up his hands. "Well, maybe you should take more care to be around when we need you! You should have been home when this happened. What if Amita had gotten there ten minutes earlier?" he nearly yelled, and they both jumped when they heard a cough behind them.

"Am I interrupting something?" Walker asked, holding a file.

Charlie looked at him apprehensively. "Please don't tell me you have more work for me," he begged.

"No. I heard about the attack on your father, so I spoke with the patrolman and looked at the sketch of the perp, and we know who it was who attacked him."

"Well?" Don demanded when he didn't say anything.

"It was Miguel Perez," Walker told them, hesitating slightly, knowing the bombshell he had just dropped.

Don turned to his brother in fury. "You just had to get involved with this didn't you!" he screamed, the fear for his father chocking him, and it was as though he was watching someone else. He clenched a fist and drove it into his brother's face, ignoring Amita's scream. "You did this to our father!" he yelled.

The other two agents sprung into action; David pulled Don back as hard as he could, and Colby knelt next to Charlie, who was on his knees and cradling his face. Blood was seeping through his fingers and dribbling onto the tile below them.

"You alright, man?" Colby asked quietly. He wasn't going to push, knowing that their resident genius needed a few minutes to get control of himself.

"Uh huh," Charlie muttered. Amita gently handed him a wad of tissues, eyes wide and slightly frightened. He accepted Colby's hand to help him stand, and looked his brother dead in the eyes. "Ib you wanded be to leab, you dust had to ast," he said through his broken nose, and shouldered through everyone, hurrying out of the ER and grabbed the first cab he saw. He just needed to get away from everyone right then.

* * *

**Alright, so I feel the need to justify my reasoning in regards to how I'm portraying Don's character. In truth, I really like him in the series, but I can see him having a temper problem, especially towards Charlie. It could have started when they were younger, and just stayed in the back of his mind when they grew up. Sibling rivalry doesn't always go away (I'm the youngest of 3, so I do understand that).**

**In my last story, I protrayed Don as the over protective big brother. In this one, I wanted to go a different angle, showing how things could be between the brothers if they didn't get along quite as well. It isn't meant to be a knock on Don's character, who has a very stressful job of his own that he spends most of his time and energy on. Not that I condone his actions in any way, shape, or form, but he does have faults, just like every other human.  
**

**In summary, Don is simply not as observant of how bad things are for his brother, and he lost control of his temper at a very emotional time for everyone. I've tried to give a couple glimpses into Don's mind to show that he really does care for Charlie, but that sometimes he acts before he thinks.  
**

**Oh, and Perez is going to play a bit more of a role later on, but his attack on Alan wasn't for the reason you might think :-)  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow. I knew that the last chapter would be a bit controversial, but I did not expect all of the negative feedback. I won't apologize for that, as most of this story was already written before I posted it, and what wasn't written was at least thought through, so it's where I was always going. However, I did expand this one a bit more, and took out what would have been the second half, which I'll post later. **

**So, this one is mostly thoughts of Don and Charlie, which I did my best to give some insight. Very little dialogue, though things will be picking up more after this one.  
**

**Lastly, I will reiterate my request that if you have negative feedback, please sign in so that I can make a response. Nothing grates on my nerves more than the inability to address some of the points being brought up, and I've already had to delete a couple reviews which were far too explicit. I'm not discouraging anyone from posting a review, but if you have issues, then I respectfully request the right to defend my work.  
**

* * *

As the doors to the ER swung closed, everyone felt as though they finally understood the term 'deafening silence.' There really wasn't much that they could say, even if they were able to, which none of them were at the moment.

Don was staring at his fist in shock, feeling as though he was eighteen again. That was the last time that he had hit Charlie, which had been the day after their high school graduation. Of course, Charlie had responded in kind, giving Don a lovely shiner. Any time the brothers had gotten into a scuffle, it was never one sided. He didn't understand the look Charlie had given him when he'd left: it was a mix of defeat and apathy. That scared Don, if he was to be honest with himself.

The silence was broken by a sharp SMACK, and Don blinked in shock. He barely felt the slap that Amita had delivered to his cheek. He touched it with one hand, surprised to feel the heat rising from it. She had a good swing, he'd give her that.

Looking up, he saw her incensed glare that never left her face, even as Walker was pulling her back gently. "It's alright, Gary, she's okay."

The officer just shrugged, and let go of her arm. "I'll go and look into this, I promise we'll get you some answers, Don," he said, and walked out the door as well.

Amita waited until he was out of earshot, then went up to the older Eppes brother. "You bastard," she whispered venomously. "Was that really necessary?"

Don looked back down at his fist, seeing a few flecks of Charlie's blood on one of the knuckles. Using his free thumb, he wiped it off to give himself a few moments to answer. "Would you like to go sit with our dad until I get back?" he asked, not responding to her question.

Amita looked confused. "Of course I'll sit with him," she said, and watched as he turned to leave. "Where are you going to be?"

"I need to talk to Charlie," he responded, and didn't wait for a response before heading to his car. There was something wrong, and he was going to figure out what it was. He had to admit, there was a lot more to the situation than he had known. Putting aside his brother's reaction – or lack thereof – for the moment, he considered Perez. When he first heard the name, knowing that he was part of the gang that Charlie was helping with, he had naturally assumed that Perez would have sought out Alan for revenge. When he thought about it, though, it didn't make sense. Consultants' identities are guarded for that exact reason. Sure, Duryea had managed to find out about Amita, but he had a high IQ, and had a well thought out plan that he executed. Having looked into Perez, he knew that the guy was a 10th grade dropout, and none of his associates had any hacking skills necessary to penetrate the LAPD databases to look for consultants in their case, if they even knew about any of it.

So why would Perez attack Alan if it wasn't for revenge? A random occurrence was possible, but unlikely. He and Charlie never had a lot in common, but neither really believed in coincidences, and there was a lot more to this than met the eye.

He pulled his SUV into the NSA HQ parking lot, figuring this would have been where Charlie would have headed. He still didn't understand Charlie's current connection to the NSA, as it had been a few years since that particular agency had asked for Charlie's help in one of their cases. The last had been their case with the missing yacht, and that one had been disastrous for the brothers as well, since Charlie couldn't tell him about it. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He entered the lobby, headed to the receptionist.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking up from her computer.

"Yes, I would like to see Charles Eppes, he's my brother. I understand he is consulting for a case right now," Don replied, flashing his badge. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, FBI."

"One moment, I'll call the agent in charge of that case," she told him, dialing the number.

A few minutes later, the agent that Don had briefly seen at Charlie's office a few days prior came into the lobby, his face masking any confusion he was likely feeling right then.

"Agent Eppes?" he asked, stopping a foot from Don.

Don nodded. "Yes, I would like to speak with Charlie, please," he repeated as politely as he could.

"I'm sorry, but that isn't possible. He's working on something rather time sensitive at the moment, and he even asked not to be disturbed."

Don couldn't say that he was very surprised at that, and just nodded. "I understand where you are coming from, but there are a few things I need to speak with him about. Could you let him know that I'm here?" he requested, kicking himself for forgetting the number that Charlie said he could be reached at.

Agent Riley studied him for a moment, clearly debating with himself. Finally coming to a decision, he reached over the receptionist and grabbed the land line, quickly dialing the extension for the computer lab.

"Dr. Eppes? I have your brother here at the front desk, requesting to speak with you," he said, and paused, listening to something. "Let me ask." He moved the mouth of the phone under his chin. "Is there something wrong with Alan?" he asked, confused as to what was going on.

Don bit his lip. He really wanted to talk to his brother, but he wasn't going to lie to him, as that would worsen things. "No, it's not about that. Just tell him that I would like to explain something."

Riley relayed the message, then nodded at something that he heard. "Understood, professor. I'll let him know. Thank you." He hung up the phone and turned to Don. "He's asked not to be disturbed by anyone until he finishes what he is doing for us, unless it has something to do with Alan or another emergency. He said that he will contact you when he is finished for the day."

Don just nodded curtly at Riley, and turned on his heel, walking back out to his car. He knew before he'd gotten there that this would be the outcome, but he had needed to try. He raked a hand over his face. It had already been one hell of a day, and it wasn't even over. Man, he could really go for a beer later on. Maybe he would go out with David and Colby after visiting hours were over.

* * *

Charlie hung up the phone and sighed. He knew that he needed to talk with Don. There was a lot of miscommunication there, and he could have handled all of it better than he did. This was the first time in years that he had felt the need to tuck tail and run from the situation, but he wasn't doing well. He was just ready for all the cases to be over, and have a break for a while.

He found himself missing the halls of CalSci more than he would have thought. He truly loved teaching, and was finding himself wondering if he had made the right decision in taking a leave. At that thought, he scoffed at himself. If this was what life as a consultant was, then he had no time to continue with teaching. While he loved his time with his students, this was saving lives, and that was always more important. Wasn't it?

He adjusted the ice pack on his face, forcing himself not to grin ruefully. It wasn't a shock to him that his brother had a fist of steel. It was something that he had known for years, and he was sure that Don's time in the FBI, dealing with all of the suspects and the fights that he needed to get into had only helped that matter.

In the past, he had never let his brother get away with starting a physical fight. On occasion, he had started them himself, but Don usually threw the first punch. If Don started something, Charlie would throw himself into it just as much. This was the first time he had walked away, and he couldn't help the hollowness he felt right then. He knew that part of it was the fact that he was just too drained to hold any anger at his brother right then. Heck, he didn't have the energy to hold onto any strong emotions.

However, he couldn't help but feel like a coward for ducking Don, who had left the hospital and driven all the way to the NSA. He felt even worse for not being at the hospital himself, when his dad was injured, most likely because of him.

"_You did this to our father!" _An enraged brother regarding their father.

"_Do you have so little respect for my daughter that you are willing to endanger her life?" _A cold father regarding Charlie's fiancée.

"_This is the cost of not deciding!" _An angry father pointing to his eldest son after surgery.

The flashes of blame that was laid on him by others, and later by himself, raced through his mind, and he forced himself to stop thinking about that. He would give himself time to consider all of that later, but now was not the time. The code was nearly finished, and he wanted it done before his father left the hospital the next day.

* * *

**Like I said, this one was a bit more contemplative. Things will start picking up again after this. I hope this chapter helped to clarify things, but until the eventual conversation between the brothers, that's all I'm doing on motives and reasonings. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the support, those of you who PMed me and left reviews! I really appreciated the votes of confidence, and this is your reward: another quick update! It's not super long, but we get answers! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: It was mine, but then I had Don punch Charlie, and got them taken away  
**

* * *

Don shifted slightly in his seat. He had gone straight back to the hospital, and planted himself in the chair by his father's bed, knowing that he wasn't going to move from there until the nurses threw him out. It didn't come to that, though.

"Donnie?" his father asked, finally cracking open an eye.

"Hey, Dad," Don breathed, relieved. He knew that the doctor said that there would be no issues with recovery, but he knew that sometimes complications came up unexpectedly. "How are you feeling?"

"Isn't that the point of the drugs?" Alan asked with a wry grin, pointing at the IV in his hand.

Don chuckled, holding his dad's hand in his. They really weren't a touchy feely type family, but he still loved him.

Alan, though, paused when he looked down. "What happened?" he asked, gesturing to the light bruising on the first two knuckles.

Don inwardly cursed, really not wanting to go into it. "Well, you see… what I mean to say is that…"

Alan nodded in understanding. "You and Charlie have a disagreement, huh?" he asked, knowing that he shouldn't be amused at the gaping expression his eldest was giving him, but he couldn't help it. "Donnie, the only reason that you would start stuttering would be if you had hit either Robin or Charlie, and since you are here and your brother isn't, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which it was."

"You don't sound upset," Don noticed, which he was glad about. He really didn't need the yelling that he could have received.

"Son, you and Charlie are both adults; you don't need your father to get into the middle of whatever fight you two are having right now. All I can tell you is that I would like you both to get it figured out soon. I hate it when you both fight. Your mother did, too."

Don winced at the last, knowing that he was right. It always made their mother cry when the boys would get into a fight, and need ice packs on their injuries, and then she would make their ears ring when she finally got around to yelling at them. "I will. He said that he'll be done with his latest case soon, and we'll talk then."

Alan leaned back into the bed, nodding. "Good. Well, now that you've assured yourself that I'm going to be fine, go and get the bastard that did this to me," he ordered.

Don stood, nodding. "Will do, dad."

* * *

Amita walked into the LAPD, headed for one certain man, who was nearly buried under a mountain of files, much as he always was when she went to see him. "Hello," she greeted him.

"Hey, Amita," he said tiredly, barely looking up. She had insisted that he use her first name, and he'd done the same. "I don't have any answers yet."

She shrugged. "I assumed as much. I thought that maybe I could be of some help." Don had arrived back at the hospital, looking weary and frustrated, so she had hurried to make herself scarce. She really did want to berate him further for his actions, but knew that it wasn't her place, and it appeared as though he was already doing that for her.

He looked up at her. "Actually, there is a lot of information to comb through, as long as you have some time."

"I have the time." She knew that she wouldn't be able to tear Charlie away from his work, and there wasn't a lot else that she could do. Colby and David had helped Nikki hurry the cleaning crew along, making sure that the house was a spotless as it ever was. "What do you have on Perez so far?" she asked, taking off her light jacket and sitting down in the extra chair that was in the office.

He passed her a couple files. Most were on the man himself, a few on some of his contacts, and others on the gang itself. If nothing else, Amita wanted to know why on earth a gang banger had looked so familiar to her, as she obviously never associated with them.

The two of them worked hard together late into the evening, neither getting very far. None of it made sense, to either of them, as it couldn't be a coincidence that Perez went after Charlie, of all people.

Don joined them not long later, giving them both a silent nod, and starting his own research. It was apparent that none of them were leaving until they found some answers, and it was likely to be a long night. That was why Don had brought extra large coffees for each of them, and they settled in. The only noises were the fluttering of papers, Styrofoam cups being picked up and set back down, and frustrated sighs.

Their break finally came at about 2 am, when Amita dropped her coffee on the floor, causing the men to look up at her aghast expression. "It can't be," she whispered.

Don stood and walked behind her, looking at the paper. He read for only a moment, and he didn't quite get it. "He has a half brother. So what?" he asked.

Amita shakily put the file down. "His brother was one of Charlie's students, until Charlie took a leave from the university and transferred him to another professor."

"Charlie took a leave?" Don asked, still not understanding the significance.

Amita groaned, putting her head in her hands. She remembered the day after she got back into town, having talked with Dr. Huang.

"_How was your visit home, Dr. Ramanujan?" the dean asked. _

"_It was… interesting," she said diplomatically. The trip was good, but the return wasn't. _

"_Well, onto business. Would you be willing to pick up an extra two classes this coming term?" _

"_Why? Did another professor quit?" she asked. She knew that Dr. Warren had left after the explosion, but she thought that his usual classes were already covered. _

_Huang looked confused for a moment. "Did Charles not tell you?" she asked._

_Amita's brow's rose. "Charlie quit?" she squeaked, having not expected that. _

_However, she shook her head. "No, he wanted to, but I convinced him to take a leave instead. Apparently, he wants to spend more time doing his consulting, and was worried about splitting his focus between that and academia. He still had to transfer his thesis students to other advisors. Which has already caused some problems."_

"_What problems?" Amita asked. She seemed to be having more questions the longer she was in the office, and wasn't liking it. _

"_I believe you are aware of Juan Ortega?" _

_She nodded, remembering all the help that her fiancé had given the young man. "Yes, he wasn't doing well at all, but Charlie got him some help, and fought the board to be his thesis advisor, believing that he would be able to graduate with his Masters. None of the other teachers would touch him, given his grades before the end of the term."_

_Huang nodded. "Exactly. Well, he's back to the same problem now. Dr. Eppes sent emails to each of the other advisors, but they all refused to take Juan on. Juan dropped out yesterday. He sent me an email saying that until Eppes came back, he wouldn't."_

Amita was thinking hard. If everything she knew about the DB was true, it made sense, in a rather twisted way. If Perez blamed Charlie for his brother's inability to continue his education, then he would try to get revenge on that professor. The attack on Alan could have been on purpose, targeting a family member, or it could have been an accident: Perez went inside, expecting to find Charlie, but was caught by Alan first.

She told her theory to the other two, and they nodded grimly. It was clear that Perez had a few screws loose, and didn't realize that his actions were ridiculous, but there was nothing that they could do about that.

Amita ignored them for the moment, and pulled out her phone to call Charlie. Her concern grew, though when it went straight to voicemail. "Charlie's phone is off," she said, shocked. "He never turns his phone off, especially when he's on a case.

Don stood. He smelled something wrong with the situation. "Amita stay here," he ordered shortly, pulling on his FBI jacket, and pulling out his own phone. "Gary, call up the NSA, see if he's still there. I'm calling my team. Where does Perez live?"

Within moments, the sleepy atmosphere of the office became fast paced, as both the officer and the agent called the appropriate people. Gary called the NSA, and found that Charlie had left nearly an hour before. Therefore, he called his team in, and told them to stake out Perez's place. Don called his team, telling them to hightail it to Charlie's house, just to be safe. He didn't know if Perez was stupid enough to try anything at the same house, but he wasn't sure.

He patted Amita on the shoulder as he passed her. "Good work," he whispered, and flew out the door, Walker on his heels.

* * *

Charlie entered his house with a groan, but he couldn't help the weary smile that was on his face. He had finally finished the code, and had fast tracked it to the proper people, where it was sent off to the right ones in the Middle East.

That meant that he was finally finished with his time of hell, as all the cases were closed. There wasn't anything he could do on his father's case, so he would leave that one to Don to figure out. He would visit the older man as soon as he woke up the next day, though he did plan to finally give himself more than a couple hours of sleep.

He dropped his two bags off on the couch and toed off his shoes, deciding to get started on that rest. He stopped for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, realizing for the first time that one of the windows was open, which was odd, as it rarely was. Shrugging it off as the cleaning crew from the scene earlier having done it to dispel the fumes, he continued upstairs and went to his room.

He flipped on the light, and his heart stopped. He saw the gleam of the gun, and the wicked grin on the face of Miguel Perez.

* * *

**Uh oh! :-) I didn't really do cliffies this story, so I just had to put this one in there. Don't kill me, I'll post the next one soon. **


	9. Chapter 9

** I know quite a few of you were thinking that Perez had to do with Alan, not with Charlie, but I couldn't help having him be the half brother of a student. For some reason, that part was one of the first things that I had decided when I started this story. I hope it wasn't too farfetched, that it was somewhat believable. I also know that I did quite a bit with coincidences in my last story, but I guess they were still playing in my mind, and we'll see what happens next. **

**Disclaimer: Not before, not now, and likely not ever, especially since they cancelled the show.  
**

* * *

"Do you know who I am?" Perez asked. He was sitting on Charlie's bed, gun hand steady.

Charlie swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat. "You're the one that attacked my father," he said, feeling a bit of pride that his voice didn't shake. In truth, he was terrified. Even if he wasn't exhausted, he knew that he was no match, physically, for this man. "What I want to know is why." It was still hard to talk clearly through his broken nose, though the ice had brought the swelling down a bit, and he was more coherent.

"I think that, as I'm the one with the gun, I'll be asking the questions," Perez snapped. Then he grinned savagely. "Who'd you get into a fight with?" he asked, seeing the bruises. "I'd like to thank them."

Charlie didn't let the pain show on his face at the thought of the scene at the hospital. "Oh, I'm sorry, I think I forgot," he said sarcastically. His hand moved carefully to his pocket. He didn't care that he and Don were on the outs, he knew when he needed help.

"Ah ah," Perez said, mockingly. "I think I'd like your phone, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want our visit to be ended prematurely."

Mentally cursing, Charlie nodded, and slowly pulled out the phone, and he took a few steps forward to hand it to him. However, the time that he'd spent with the FBI, and the training course had taught him a few things.

He threw the phone as sharply as he could at the man, watching as it smacked him in the face. He kicked the gun out of the man's hand, and took off out of the room, ignoring the scream of rage from Perez. He threw himself down the stairs, cringing when a bullet whizzed past his head, and he grabbed Don's baseball bat from the hall closet, and paused, waiting and hiding in the shadows. When he saw Perez holding the gun in front of him, he brought the bat down with a sickening crunch on the arm, the gun discharging again, the bullet tearing through the hardwood floor.

"You little shit!" Perez roared, grabbing his arm in pain. "I'll make you pay for that!"

But Charlie had already started running through the house again. He was grateful beyond words that he had spent practically his entire life in that house, and knew every nook and cranny there was. There was a hidden panel in the kitchen pantry that he had used quite a bit when he and Don would play hide and seek.

He moved as silently as he could, knowing that being quiet was just as important as being quick. He had just closed the pantry door and was closing the panel closed when he heard footsteps in the kitchen.

Barely breathing, Charlie listened carefully. He felt ridiculous, cowering in the corner, when he knew that Don would have found a way to take the guy out before it had gotten this bad. He pushed those thoughts away, though, knowing that they weren't important right then.

"Think you can hide from me? Well, don't worry, I'll find you. Though I really would have thought that a college teacher would be too old for a game of hide and seek," Perez continued to mock as he held the gun in his left hand, and checking each room.

Charlie breathed a bit easier when he heard the footsteps retreating. He strained his ears to try and hear what was going on, but there wasn't much for him to hear, as the pantry was rather insulated. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when he heard three gunshots on the other side of the house.

Though the adrenaline was pumping through his veins, he still felt like he was about to collapse. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, and he waited for the end to come, for Perez to find him. He was still confused as the why the hell the guy was after his family, but he didn't need answers right then.

The pounding in his chest got worse when he heard someone running into the kitchen again, and resigned himself when he heard the pantry door open. The panel opened, and Charlie cringed.

"Chuck," Don breathed in relief, making Charlie's head snap up.

"Don?" he demanded incredulously. On shaking legs, he stood and walked out of the hidden room. "What… how did you… where's…?"

Don holstered his weapon, and spoke into the com in his ear. "He's fine. You call the coroner for Perez yet? I don't know, let me ask." Talking to Charlie this time, he asked in complete seriousness. "Do you need medical attention?" he demanded, eyes expertly looking over his brother for life threatening injuries.

Charlie shook his head, leaning on the wall and trying to control his breathing. "I'm fine," he gasped, the event s of the evening washing over him, and he realized just how lucky he was.

"No on the ambulance, Col, thanks," Don said to Colby, and turned back to his brother, still worried. "Let's get you sitting down," he said, able to tell that it wasn't much longer before he collapsed. He grabbed Charlie by the upper arm and led him to one of the kitchen chairs, helping him put his head between his knees, and accepted the glass of water that David handed him when the team walked into the room.

"How you holding up, Mr. Math?" Nikki asked, looking completely at ease with everything.

"Where's Perez?" Charlie asked instead of answering the rather stupid question. "What happened?"

"Perez is dead." Don was still worried. Normally, his brother would be talking nonstop about something, and applying mathematical applications to everything in sight. The nearly silent Charlie was worrisome. "Amita figured it all out, and we knew that he would be coming after you, so we hightailed it here."

"Well, thanks," Charlie said, realizing how close of a call it could have been. If he had been feeling like himself, he would be firing off questions, particularly about how Amita figured everything out, but right then there was only one thing that he needed to know. "Is Dad alright?"

"He's fine. Assuming we get this place cleaned up by the morning," he checked his watch, "well, later this morning, he'll be coming home." Before this case, the Craftsman had not been a crime scene once, and now it was one twice in twelve hours? It was rather surreal.

Again, Charlie just nodded. Nothing was helping with the dizziness, and he looked up in time to see the team looking concerned at him, before his eyes rolled up and blackness overtook him.

"Whoa!" Don yelled, steadying his brother's body as it almost fell off the chair.

Briggs, who had entered the room with Walker when the team was talking with the professor, stepped forward. "I have medic training," he explained to the strange looks. "Let me take a look at him."

Don nodded, but only shifted away slightly, still holding his brother steady. Briggs knelt in front of the passed out genius, and put two fingers on the wrist as he looked at his own watch. Apparently satisfied, he checked Charlie's pupils with a penlight, and then stood. "He just passed out. From the looks of things, he's severely exhausted; not to mention I don't think he's had a descent meal in a while. Add that with the adrenaline rush he just had, I would have been surprised if he had stayed conscious." Seeing the blank looks he got, he bit back a chuckle, as it wasn't the time or place. "Let him sleep it off and have a good meal when he wakes, and he'll be fine."

Colby stepped forward. "I'll take him to the couch," he offered, and his jaw nearly hit the floor with how easy it was to lift another grown man. Deciding not to say anything out loud, he just walked with the professor over his shoulder into the living room, seeing the coroner taking the body bag out of the room, and gently laid him on the couch. Don was there and threw a blanket over him, and they both quietly left the room.

Words couldn't describe how relieved Don was that everything was over. He watched as the crime scene cleaners left after dealing with the blood smears, and all of the investigators left after taking photos of everything, the shell casings, and the baseball bat, which Don was sure he would never be able to look at the same again.

He still had a lot of work to do to sort out his feelings regarding everything, but he thought he understood everything, and was appalled at himself for how long it took him to get it, even though he and Charlie had been working together for over five years.

He knew the signs of Charlie working for another agency. There was the evasion regarding details, the inability to work faithfully on Don's case alone, and the lines of exhaustion from far too much math in too short of a time. Really, he didn't know what was wrong with him for not having figured it out earlier.

He also couldn't figure out what Amita was talking about, that Charlie had taken a leave from the university. Don could remember Charlie's first semester of teaching at CalSci, and the fact that he'd practically been beaming at everyone and everything. He'd loved it. So Don couldn't figure out why he would give it up after so long, especially when he was already tenured!

He knew that he and Charlie needed to have a long conversation about everything, but it could wait. They would figure out their relationship as soon as he made sure that Charlie didn't self destruct like this again.

* * *

***grins* As much as I love whump and drama and angst and... all of that, I still love it when I get super stubborn characters to see the light!**


	10. Chapter 10

**We come to the end! I can't believe how quickly I managed to get this one done. To be honest, I'm kind of proud of that, but that's neither here nor there. Enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: Numb3rs has never been mine, though it would make a loverly Christmas gift!  
**

* * *

Feeling himself slowly return to consciousness, Charlie felt a soft hand gently carding through his hair, and smiled slightly. There was clearly only one person that would do that for him. He opened his eyes to the very welcome sight of his fiancée.

"Hey," he whispered, noting that his throat felt rather dry and scratchy.

Amita just nodded and helped him sit up. "Hey, yourself," she said, clearly trying to be upset with him, but not succeeding very well. She picked up a mug of soup that she'd made less than twenty minutes ago, so it was still rather warm, and pressed it into his hands. "Drink," she ordered.

Charlie raised a brow, but did as she said. For one, she was right, and he was absolutely starving for just about anything right then. Also, he'd learned the hard way not to argue with her, as you would always lose. When he drained the mug, he accepted the bottle of water and took his time with it. "So, I don't really remember much after hitting Perez with that bat," he commented, going for sounding off hand.

She wasn't fooled. "David and Nikki took the shot, nearly at the same time. When Don heard he was down, they quickly searched the house, but according to Nikki, he went straight for where you were at. Apparently, he knew that you would be in there."

He nodded. It wasn't surprising. Though he'd always been a genius, he'd hidden in there far too often during their games, and it was the first place Don would then always check. "What about Juan?" he asked, forcing himself to ask the question. He'd really had a soft spot for the young man, wanting to do whatever he could to help him. If he had been in on this, Charlie didn't know if he would ever be able to go back to teaching.

Amita shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Don and the team grabbed him from home and hauled him into the FBI. They'll find out for you."

Charlie just nodded, and felt another jaw cracking yawn coming, and looked apologetically at her. She grinned slightly, clearly amused. "Get some more rest. I know you haven't been doing enough of that lately, so sleep."

Charlie just winked at her as he snuggled back under the covers. He pulled Amita down next to him, chuckling at her squeak of surprise, and they both stayed there. They needed the warmth, the breaths; the proof that they were together, and they would face whatever they had to together.

The next time he woke up, it was evening of the following day, and the first thing that Charlie noticed was that Amita wasn't there. The second, was that his father was in the living room in his usual chair, looking fondly at him as he blearily sat up.

"Dad," Charlie whispered, appalled. One entire side of the eldest Eppes' face was black and blue, as well as swollen beyond belief.

"Son," Alan greeted with a grin, as a full smile was still too painful for him. "You know, with your nose that swollen, you are starting to look more like me."

Charlie forced a grin. It was true, and his nose was in agony, but that was the least of his concerns. "Are you alright?" he asked instead.

Alan nodded, still smiling. "I'm healing, and both of my sons are alive and healthy. That's all I've ever needed to be happy."

Charlie just nodded as he gingerly stood. He had been sleeping for quite a long time, he could tell. Not only was he stiff in places that shouldn't be stiff, but his mouth tasted horrible, his eyes were burning, and his head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. He stretched, and nodded at his father before making his way to the bathroom.

After he finally felt human again, he stopped in his tracks as he was about to walk into his room. The last time he'd walked in there, he was nearly killed by a madman with a gun. His fingers trembled as he pushed the door open, and he nearly passed out again.

"Don, don't DO that to me!" he exclaimed in a huff, putting a hand to his chest to steady his racing heart as he glared at his older brother, who was sitting there, a nearly innocent look on his face.

Don grinned a bit, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Oops," he said. "Probably wasn't the best idea to wait for you in here, was it?"

"Gee, ya think?" Charlie said sarcastically as he grabbed a clean set of clothes, and went back to the bathroom to change. When he came back a minute later, his older brother was still sitting by the bed on the chair that usual was in front of the desk that no one used for years. Not even Amita would use the desk in their room, they both preferred the garage for their work. "So, are you wanting anything in particular?" he asked. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to act around Don right then. After all, the last few times they'd seen each other were not under great conditions. The rescue, the punch, the yelling, more yelling… he could go on. In fact the last time they'd had a decent conversation had been the day he'd gotten the call from Walker about taking the DB case.

Don shifted slightly. "I just want to talk." He knew that he was putting himself out there, and he hated it. But he would at least be willing to meet his brother halfway. "Clearly that's something we haven't been doing for a while," he said, unconsciously parroting Charlie's thoughts.

The younger brother nodded and made himself comfortable on the bed. "Alright, where would you like to start?"

Don hesitated. The wrong thing said here could be bad, and they really weren't an emotional family. Like Alan often said, that's where a daughter would have come in handy. "Why didn't you tell me you were spreading yourself so thin?" he asked, deciding to cut straight to it.

"That's as good a place to start as any," Charlie sighed. "I picked up the case with Walker, then Dr. Ramanujan cancelled my engagement, David brought me the Salt's code, you needed answers, I contacted the NSA for a supercomputer, they demanded I work a case for them. Things just kind of spiraled from there, and I couldn't really figure out a way to come up for air."

"That doesn't really answer my question," Don retorted, though he was reeling from the revelation about the engagement. He would ask about that later, if he had a chance. "And don't tell me it was because that's confidential, because you've told me stuff like that before."

Charlie sighed again. "I knew how worried you were about Dad during that case," he admitted. "Every time there was a new victim, you saw dad's face. You were worried that Dad was going to be the next victim of the LA Beater, and there was no way I was going to let you or dad down if I could help it."

Don nodded, as it did make sense. Before he could form a response, though, Charlie asked a question of his own.

"You didn't seem surprised when I didn't find anything off about that case," he commented. "So why did you have me look it over in the first place, after I decoded the message?"

Don rubbed his neck slightly. "I just kept thinking about what you might have said: that all the pieces fit together too perfectly. I thought there might be a problem with the evidence, like we'd had before. Then I had Colby interrogate Salt, and he gave us a load of details that were never released, and I knew that it was just one of those times that I second guess myself for no reason."

Charlie nodded, thinking it through.

Don couldn't really take it anymore, and he needed a certain question answered. "Why didn't you hit me back?" he demanded. It was something that he still couldn't figure out, no matter how much time he spent thinking about it.

Charlie chuckled slightly. "Really, it's not that complicated, Don," he confessed, and looked at his hands. "Dad kind of blamed me for your stabbing a few months ago. Dr. Ramanujan blamed me for Amita's kidnapping. Then when you said it was my fault that Dad got attacked, I just couldn't believe how much damage I had done, and all I could think about was getting away and try to outrun my thoughts."

Don felt a stab in his gut. "Dad said what?" he nearly yelped.

Charlie chuckled darkly. "He said that it was the cost of not deciding. Well, then he gets attacked, and that was the cost of deciding. Guess I can't win no matter what I do, can I?"

Don heard the self loathing clearer than he heard the words, and it was killing him. "Charlie, none of that was your fault," he said firmly. Seeing his brother flinch slightly, he continued. "Look, there was no way in hell you could have predicted anything related to my stabbing. Not to mention, you figured everything out, almost single handedly. Amita chose to work with us nearly the same time you did. She could have stopped after your clearance was revoked, but she didn't. She knew what she was getting into, and both of you know that."

Charlie didn't look up. He wanted to believe what his brother was telling him, but it was too hard to believe that every person he cared about over the past few weeks had been in serious danger of being killed, and none of that had to do with him. "Don, you don't …

"I was wrong," Don said, and mentally smirked when he saw Charlie's eyes widen. "Yeah, record it, I won't admit it ever again." Then he grew serious. "Charlie, dad getting hurt wasn't your fault."

"Really?" Charlie said sarcastically. "Then I guess it was someone else who decided to give up on a student with strong ties to a violent gang, and that decided to go after dad?"

"You did what you could for him, and you took a break when you needed it, not to mention that I know for a fact that you had no idea about the connection of Ortega and Perez. If Juan Ortega can't stand on his own two feet, then I doubt he would have made it through graduation, no matter how much you helped him out."

Thinking about it, Charlie knew that Don was right. There was little that he could have done for Don, Amita, or their father. Such an epiphany was difficult to comprehend after countless hours filled with self hatred, imagning himself as the worst possible person: one who gets those he loves hurt. But, truthfully, what else could he have done.

"You're right," Charlie said, astonishment filling his voice as he looked up for the first time during their conversation.

Don smirked. "Please, who do you think you're talking to?" he joked, and stood up. "Now, get your scrawny ass up. I'm taking you and dad out to eat, since you clearly need some food." He pretended to think for a moment, deciding to make light of the situation. "Though I don't know how people will react, seeing as you both look so hideous," he grinned.

Charlie thought about arguing, but then he, too, smirked. "Sounds good. You know, I've really been craving that knew steakhouse that's downtown, I hear they have the best rib eye in California."

Don immediately started protesting. "No way, that's the place that charges nearly 60 bucks for a steak. We could grill at home for a fraction of that price!"

"Actually, Donnie, that's a misnomer. When you say a fraction of the price, you really mean…"

Don grinned as they walked down the stairs. They still had a few things to work through, but he was sure that their relationship could be salvaged, and that was worth the price of a few steaks, in his mind.

**Fin**

* * *

**We made it! Thanks for all of those that have stuck with this story. I know I upset a lot of people with some of what I wrote, but this is how I'd imagined writing it from early on, and I'm glad that there were a lot of you who supported me throughout. Regardless, I always have to give my  
characters happy endings, no matter what hell I put them through. **

**Thanks again to all of you! :-)  
**


End file.
